


Awaken

by stfulia



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Blood & Gore, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts, Vomiting, all in all pretty heavy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 08:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17598083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stfulia/pseuds/stfulia
Summary: Riven has lost everything.The people fighting beside her, her family, were all dead. The commanders who had instructed them to keep moving forwards, they betrayed her. The very country whose values she fought for with such dedication… Riven cannot recognize it. How was that battle a fight whose winner would be decided by strength alone? How was that Noxian? She could not comprehend it.No, she refused to comprehend it — if she pretends that she cannot understand it, the pain of betrayal feels less raw.





	Awaken

**Author's Note:**

> This fic pretty much dives into Riven's thoughts and feelings after she made her way out of the Noxian-Ionian war and found herself in a state of mental warfare instead. A basic understanding of Riven's lore would be extremely helpful in reading this! 
> 
> To be perfectly honest, this isn't everyone's cup of tea. Not much action really occurs, only lots of introspection and angst from our favorite exile. This work is a little disjointed at times as Riven thinks back on the events which transpired earlier, but I've tried my best to make it as straightforward as possible without losing the rawness of all the emotions which she's experiencing. Thank you Ocean for helping me fix this damn thing, I appreciate you lots.

Riven awakens to agony.

Her body burns as if monstrous claws are ripping at her, as if her limbs are being dipped into searing hot oil and kept there even as she screams. Screaming… her throat feels raw.

She must’ve screamed as the fires hit her. But that’s nothing in comparison to the burns which surely mar her body, like a small insect bite causing an itch compared to say, breaking all of your limbs.

She’s lying on loose soil, within an unfamiliar field. The muck clings to her form, dragging her body down into the ground. The heavy rain isn’t exactly helping either, one pushing her down & one sucking her in, both vying to bury her alive.

(It feels almost like an embrace.)

Although her muscles scream in protest, she rearranges her body so that she sits upright. Riven has an inkling of what the chem-tech will do to her body if she lets it eat away at her flesh. Inhaling shakily, the soldier closes her eyes and thinks.

Focus is essential in battle; complete one thing at a time. Out of all the mottoes they were taught during training, that was the one which came to the soldier’s mind. And yet, it’s utterly useless. Riven doesn’t know what to do at all, has no idea what her next steps should be. No amount of training can prepare a soldier for being back-stabbed by her own fucking country.

She squeezes her eyes together tightly, refusing to add emotional pain on top of her physical torment just yet. The soldier takes her head piece off. The rain immediately pummels her, blinding her.

The water attempts to cleanse Riven & the blade, but neither will be rid of their stubborn stains from the past. She’s glad for the rain, she cannot tell if the water sliding down her face is her own tears or not anymore.

After feeling nothing but rough cloth & heavy metal gear upon her skin for so long, the water is far more than Riven could’ve hoped for. Her aching body welcomes the shower, rain making its way through her armor and seeping through her hair & making her feel alive again.

The weather is pleasant, balmy with a light breeze on her skin. It’s as if the land itself embraces her, even though she’s been doing nothing but cleaving at it’s people as the war dragged on and on.

After this brief respite, all the clutter inside her head clears up & she begins to think. No Noxian texts recorded any instance of toxic rain within Ionia, at least not to her knowledge. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back, opening her jaw wide & letting the rainwater fill her mouth. Riven gargles it before spitting it back out, the small action somehow doing wonders in making herself feel less like a dead body. Now, she can’t taste the death right on her tongue.

The soldier drinks more, takes her time and gulps greedily as she considers her options — or lack thereof. If she was going to do anything, she needs to take care of her injuries in whatever way she could.

Her options are admittedly, rather limited.

Gritting her teeth, she readies herself as best as possible for the pain that was about to come. One piece at a time, Riven takes her armor off. She whimpers during the process and immediately bites the inside of her cheek harshly, shame burning through her. The hunks of metal themselves are disfigured, marred by the fire.

The moonlight gives just enough lighting so that she doesn’t accidentally injure herself further and not enough so that she can fully see the state of her body. These small mercies are what the soldier appreciates as she prepares herself for the worst. The pain is enough to make her scream as she takes off the armor encasing her left arm, feeling a chunk of her flesh coming off along with the burned metal. Her breaths come in short pants, ragged as she clenches her fists so that her nails dig into the flesh of her palms.

It’s not like anyone can see her in this state. Only the unfamiliar land around her bears witness to her weakness, to her failure. The Ionian soil, the sky and she herself.

Out of those three… She dreads her own judgement the most of all. But as far as she knows, she’s alone.

_Riven should be dead._

Glancing at the runic blade lying upon the ground beside her… she recalls none of the ancient magic which coursed through her blood when she first touched the weapon, nor any of the pride as she pledged her life to wielding this blade in the name of Noxus. Unlike her flesh or her armor, the blade appears utterly unharmed.

The bright green explosion of runic energy had seared itself into her mind, it’s there every time she closes her eyes. It seems that the ancient magic had burst forth & protected her.

But to what end? So that she would patch up her body and somehow return to Noxus? Not fucking likely. Bitter hatred erupts from her throat, the sound a caricature of a laugh. Her fellow generals, indeed her whole country has turned their backs on Riven, for she would surely be deemed as a failure. Bastards, the whole lot of them. She raises a hand to her mouth, lowering it to see scarlet. The rain quickly washes the blood away.

A part of her wants it to remain. 

 

* * *

 

 

She may as well have been a corpse, for she was surrounded by so many when she came to. The putrid stench of burned flesh, that scent of decay had made the soldier retch, emptying whatever contents was remaining in her stomach from her food rations onto the ground.

She looked around her and didn’t see Noxian or Ionian, friend or foe. Riven only saw an open grave. She walked through the fires & found no respite from the reality of her predicament. Abandoned, betrayed by her nation and left for dead.

Her country will not take her back. This country will show her no mercy. She’s a living, breathing corpse, the Wolf already hounding onto the scent of her weakness, snapping its jaws at her in the long shadows. If she doesn’t get it together, its hunt will be over soon.

Ever the fighter, Riven’s will to keep living had pulled her body upwards & away from the fire, not allowing herself to perish within the flames she had been saved from by her blade. She moved with her blade strapped to her back, relying on the two limbs which she could still feel as much as possible.

Every step uphill as she headed out of the war-torn valley was slow, far too slow. And yet, Riven could not will her body to move any faster, her breathing ragged and her knuckles grew white as her digits held onto her blade so tightly that they trembled. Her vision grew blurry with each step, eyes watering from the poisonous mists.

All those endurance exercises during training had apparently paid off, but nothing could've prepared Riven for the heartache.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She had passed out on open ground, as if years of training had failed her. Ionian reinforcements should be coming very soon, Riven doesn’t know how long she slept for.

She needs to move, now.

Riven can barely manage a crawl; standing is out of the question.

(It’s not like she feels rested either. What she experienced cannot be described as sleep. It was filled with visions of blood, fire, chemical explosions & green runic light, leaving the soldier far from feeling energized.)

Tearing off some cloth from her soiled trousers, she holds the fabric up to the rain for a little while before tearing it further, into long thin strips. There would be nothing salvageable remaining in the valley, the fires would’ve long consumed any spare supplies or first aid equipment.

She wraps the rough fabric around her lower leg, covering the heavily wounded area. Her arm would have to wait.

In the distance… There’s a light in the distance. Strapping her blade to her back once more, she begins to crawl. And as her body crawled forward & focused on the monotonous movement, her mind began to wander again, despite herself willing it to not do so — a strange thing indeed for the soldier who has witnessed horrors beyond what she could ever imagine, for a soldier whose self-control was once unparalleled.

She’s never been given this much time to herself before, time has always been too much of a luxury item to spend on idle musings. And now, left without a direction of what she should be thinking, her thoughts run rampant.

_Riven should be dead._

Like all the Ionians she slaughtered in the name of a land which raised her like a pig for slaughter. This is no glorious war in the name of Noxian power. She felt no devotion to her country when she cut through untrained farmers like she had been told she would feel, only emptiness & unease. She thought it had to be done.

(Deep inside her, she knows that this is an excuse. Riven simply did not want to appear weak.)

Sacrifices must be made, right? In the name of Noxus, all was excusable. How many mothers & fathers had she taken from children? How many sons and daughters had she cut through?

How many families had she destroyed under a banner of command who used her like she’s nothing but a tool?

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

For a peace-loving land, the enemies Riven crossed weapons with had all fought bravely, fought with their own convictions & united by their hatred for Noxus. She respected that, she really did. But her duty as a soldier was simple: obey the orders you had been given. Those who resist will either die or rise up, that was the Noxian way. If the Ionian resistance managed to defeat her in battle by prevailing using strength, then she will accept her death upon the battlefield.

By all means, the Ionians should’ve won that battle. They far outnumbered the troops alongside Riven & had surrounded them, using their knowledge of their home soil to their advantage.

Despite this, he white-haired commander wasn’t about to surrender, even when the situation looked dire. With a mighty cry which declared her dedication to Noxus, she had descended upon Ionian soldiers with her blade as if she were a goddess of war, cutting a bloody path through the foreign troops. She fought while knowing that her fellow soldiers were right beside her.

How silly of a notion. All of them had pledged their lives to Noxus and Riven somehow came out on the other side. Would she rather be dead and a Noxian or alive and… whatever she is now? She cannot tell.

Although she fought with the fury of Noxus itself, she knew that the intelligence her troops had received was false. Her distress signal, the flare which she had thrown up into the skies was met with silence for so long that she had resigned herself to her fate of being overwhelmed in combat.

In hindsight, that fate appears to be far more desirable.

Her soldiers were already tiring of the ceaseless fighting day after day, but their enemy fought with something other than their dedication to their home land. They fought because they had something to protect. That’s the universal fire which burned in all the souls her blade had reaped. But no, Riven wasn’t going down just yet. If she was doomed regardless, she would die in glory on the battlefield, she would die as a proud daughter of Noxus.

That was when the blinding beam of light exploded upon hitting Noxian troops.

Dazed, Riven squinted towards the general direction of the fire and with a sharp lurch of dread, the plan finally unveiled itself. There was no time for hesitation, only adrenaline and sheer horror rushing through her blood as she ran.

The cruel reality of the situation forced itself upon her. The only reinforcement she had called in was the deaths of everyone in this valley, Noxian and Ionian alike.

At the time, questions overwhelmed her mind. But she knew better now. The commanders didn't give a flying fuck about sacrificing their own soldiers. As long as Ionia succumbed to Noxus' will, they were willing to do anything.

By all means, the Ionians should’ve won that battle.

The Noxian code of strength over all, of only the strongest prevailing in battle… That was rendered useless as carnage erupted all around her.

Nobody will survive this. Not her brothers and sisters, not the Ionians who bested them using strength and intelligence. No longer was this a glorious battle to conquer foreign lands, this was to be an absolute massacre at all costs.

As the first wave of fire and chemicals hit her, Riven had raised her blade — unable to shield anyone but herself, unable to give any commands to her loyal soldiers, unable to watch them all burn as she ran away in despicable cowardice, eyes and lungs burning.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The blade only weighed her down as she moves forwards and yet abandoning it does not seem like an option. She cannot leave her weapon.

Out of all the atrocities she had seen… somehow the thought of continuing to live without her blade repulses her the most.

The blade which once gave her a purpose is the same weapon which shows her naivete as she blindly followed Noxian orders, and now she will carry this burden.

Noxian strength… what a load of bullshit.

_Riven should be dead._

They made her feel useful. They gave her a purpose, a bed to sleep in, a roof to dine under, a group of people like herself to lead under the Noxian banner of power.

And for what? She led her brothers and sisters in arms right into a bloodbath. They were like her. Children who were raised for the job. Born in a land which knows no compassion, only power, Ionia was weak & it was natural for the strong to conquer them, that was what they had been taught.

Riven always did whatever she could to please her commanders & just keep fighting alongside her family forged in warfare, a desperate hunger to serve Noxus. The white-haired woman knew of nothing except the life of a soldier. It was thrust upon her when she was still a young girl & she took it, clung to it like a lifeline.

And now, she has lost everything.

The people fighting beside her, her family, were all dead. The commanders who had instructed them to keep moving forwards, they betrayed her. The very country whose values she fought for with such dedication… Riven cannot recognize it. How was that battle a fight whose winner would be decided by strength alone? How was that Noxian? She could not comprehend it.

No, she refused to comprehend it — if she pretends that she cannot understand it, the pain of betrayal feels less raw.

What the fuck is she going to do now?

She stops moving.

Even if she reaches the Ionian dwelling, what will she do? Force them to help her? Use her blade to slaughter more civilians? Unlikely, not in this state. It was what her training taught her to do, what her mentors would’ve surely instructed her to perform. But that doesn’t matter anymore, none of it does. Everything she’s known for all her life had suddenly been rendered void.

And yet… the thought of showing the enemy her weakness is intolerable. She swallows, taking off her blade from her back, briefly relieving her body of the weight.

The familiar runes which were etched into the metal, glowing faintly green. Out of habit, Riven’s hand runs across the curves and edges on the blade’s surface, tracing the runic symbols which had been embedded with magic so long ago.

But when she recalls what this blade means to her now, her hand quickly retracts, as if the blade itself burns. Once so familiar to her, she can hardly stand to look at the weapon.

Her source of strength has become her greatest failure. This blade gave her meaning, a reason to keep fighting for what she desired. Recognition, glory, the strength to protect herself & those she cared about. She never wanted to feel as helpless as she once did, and yet here she is. Utterly helpless in a foreign land.

It was almost fucking poetic in its irony.

The blade mocks her lack of identity. A soldier who has been left for dead by the nation she would’ve died for, a soldier with a blade she no longer wished to wield… who is she? Riven doesn’t know anymore. Who she once was, who she wished to become, who she is right now… none of it connects.

The blade mocks her weakness. Once a woman as deadly & as resilient as the dark metal which had been wielded into this weapon, her identity is no longer reflected in the blade before her.

She feels purposeless, as if she’s been shattered. Left without a cause to fight for, a soldier has no purpose. She may as well have perished within that cursed fire, and yet the blade did not allow her to die.

Although, a part of her did die in the flames. She left a part of her spirit when she climbed her way out of the pits of inferno, as a half-living thing. Sacrifices had to be made; the soldier chose between her loyalty to Noxus and her will to keep living.

And now it seems to Riven that she had made the wrong choice. She glances at her blade.

_Riven should be dead._

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is always welcome, comments save authors!
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://offsct.tumblr.com/).
> 
> — with love, Lia.


End file.
